Chapter 2: Dormant Lust Awakened

I trudge through the gray gravel through Town back towards the boundary line that separates it from my home in the Seam. I have just finished the day's trades in the Hob, and promised Mother that I would be home by lunchtime. It is Sunday, the miners' day off, and I am preparing myself for a restful remainder of the morning and afternoon here in District 12. You have to find rest here where you can, because in this hardscrabble district, most of us starve to death in safety.

I jostle through the crowded center of Town in front of the Justice Building. As I reach the opposite edge of the Square, I suddenly hear a commotion rising above the din. Gasps and shouts split the air, and I turn back to watch the show. Life in Twelve can be pretty monotonous and dull, so when anything happens, you darn well had better hope you are close by to get a good seat.

Through a gap in the crowd of gawking onlookers, I can see a middle-aged woman being harassed by some Peacekeepers. From her clothes alone, she looks Merchant, and as her head snaps my way, baring her teeth like a rabid dog, I recognize her immediately: it is the Merchant Baker's wife. Most people refer to her as 'The Witch' because she is said to have a nasty temper. I have been fortunate enough to avoid her at the back loading dock and alley behind the Bakery, when I make the daily squirrel trade with the family, but I have heard rumors that she even beats her own sons - three strapping boys with gold-spun hair, blue eyes and Aryan looks.

"A thief? Me? Do you know who I am? I'm the Baker's wife!" she is screaming at the white-plated officers trying to restrain her. She actually makes furious moves towards them, and I have to admire her guts. She looks like she actually has every intention to attack them. Even in a copacetic district like Twelve, where our Peacekeeping force largely leaves us alone and even looks the other way on illegal dealings (heck, some officers are even in on the take themselves, some paying with goods, some with sex), it is never a good idea to physically assault an officer of the Capitol. Hopefully, this can be resolved calmly. I don't think I have ever seen a Peacekeeper use their weapon before; Cray probably turns to the policy only as a last resort.

All at once, one of the Peacekeepers - he looks to be a young cadet, one that I have never seen before, flashes something out from his hip. There is a BANG!, a chorus of screams, and the crowd scrambles back in audible shock to reveal the Baker's wife sprawled on the cobblestones, blood oozing from her temple and a gunshot wound to the head.

I gape in horror. There has never been a murder or other fatality quite like this in years, at least not as long as I have been alive. Cadets are usually trained to only use violence when strictly necessary. From the gaping look on the young Peacekeeper's face, it is clear he hadn't thought through what he was doing. Damn fool! Probably fresh off the train and still trigger-happy from the Academies back in District 2. And now there is blood on his hands.

I watch as several strong miners step forward to lift the body of the Witch. I don't stay any longer to find out what happens after. I break into a run, out of the Square and across the Seam-Town line for home...

I burst into our ramshackle house, panting and out of breath. I nearly trip over the damn cat and desperate to get this energy out of my system, I give it a hard kick that sends it howling in search of my little sister, Prim. Mother, clad in a frock and apron, comes bustling in with a small smile.

"Did you have a good walk, dear?" she asks me.

"Hunt," I correct her. Mother and I are cordial, and in the past year have even developed something that resembles affection. Mother shut down emotionally for a long time after my daddy died in a mine explosion when I was 11; I mostly raised Prim. After a time, I encouraged - no, begged - her to seek treatment, even gathering some of the herbal remedies myself when she asked me to. Now, at 17, I can look at my mother and say she is on the mend. Moving on.

Mother now stops short as she gets a good look at my face. "Katniss, what's wrong? You look as though you've seen a ghost!"

"Something happened... in the Square..." I gasp.

Mother grips my chin, turning my skull from side to side, examining me. "Was it a Peacekeeper? Did he act fresh? Did he touch you?" Mother instilled in her girls the importance of consent, and the legal age of consent for marriage and sex here is 16. Even so, I would never let a man near my most intimate of places. I'm never getting married. Never having sex. I will die a virgin, a spinster, before birthing children of some man only for them to be Reaped for the sick Hunger Games.

"A fight broke out... the Baker's wife... they accused her of being a thief and she resisted arrest... A new cadet shot her... she's dead."

Mother brings a hand to her mouth, gasping in horror. Right away, I realize how this news might actually be hard for her. Mother grew up Merchant before running away to marry my Seam father. With her blond hair, blue eyes and pale, unblemished alabaster skin, she is still striking at scarcely 40. When she wears some of her old Merchant frocks from time to time, brought with her in an old trunk during her exodus, she looks beautiful. Mother wearily sits down in a chair, staring at the wall. I peer at her curiously.

"Did you know her?" I ask, trying to sound gentle.

She nods dumbly. "Yes... I knew her..." she sighs. "Poor Steffan..."

I frown. I didn't know Mother and the Baker were on a first name basis. Mother must read my thoughts, for she gives me a sad smile. "We were childhood friends in school, he and I. And I was acquainted to Paula, though she ran in slightly different circles." She sighs again. "This is going to be hard for him..."

I hardly think that's true. From the little I've observed, the Baker and the Witch seemed to be trapped in a loveless marriage. Many Merchant marriages are like that - politically strategic alliances to keep businesses in the family. Some Merchants even arrange marriages for their children from the time they are small. In such arrangements, economic security takes precedent over romantic love. Though love might blossom later, it usually doesn't. It didn't for the Baker. No, the Baker might grieve a little bit, but inside he probably won't be able to believe his luck. Luck to be free from such tyranny.

Mother finally stands and wipes her hands on her dress. "I should probably prepare some cooking. It's tradition for there to be a wake within 24 hours of the deceased's passing. It will probably happen tonight, so we should be ready to go, to pay our respects."

I frown. "Paying what?" If anyone deserves respect, it sure as hell isn't the Witch.

Mother eyes me hard. "Katniss... you may not have liked the woman... hell, I didn't either... but Steffan is going to need someone to help him grief, and I've been there. I know what it's like to be a widow."

I immediately feel chastened. If Mother feels this is the best way she can help out her friend, who am I to stop her? I nod, and stand, moving towards the stairs to us girls' room. "I'll go get Primrose."

Digging through Mother's old trunk, I quickly find my blue Reaping dress. A hand-me-down from Mother, it is the nicest article of clothing I own, and is usually only worn once a year, at the Reaping for the Hunger Games. But for special occasions, it can work just as nicely.

I get Prim dressed in her white blouse and frock, doing her blond hair into pigtails. Then, I let my mother braid my brown hair, so that it runs down my back.

It is dusk by the time we reach the Bakery. I see all three of the Baker's sons – including Peeta, who I stole a Reaping Kiss from last year - standing around in a fog. The middle boy, however, looks like he's sorely tempted to break out into a beaming smile and turn this into a party. Mother steps forward and hugs the Baker.

"I'm so sorry, Steffan. Come to me anytime, if you want to talk."

The Baker, a kind, sweet-faced man with a nice smile, stretches his mouth tight, wanly. "Thank you, Lillian."

I don't remember anything else about the event. Prim and I mostly just remain anchored to one table in the front of the shop, clutching cups of tea and looking awkward. Decidedly out-of-place. All the Mellarks' Merchant neighbors keep giving us dirty looks; we were the only Seamers to show up. It is a relief when Mother calls that it is time to go, as we are the last to leave. I pull Primrose out of the Bakery, but turn back when I see Mother has not followed. The Baker is talking to Mother very earnestly, though I can't make out what he is saying. In response, Mother nods and smiles before exiting the shop.

"What was that all about?" Prim asks for the both of us.

"Primrose... mind your business," Mother chides her gently.

The next night, I am down at the kitchen table doing homework when Mother descends the stairs, clad in one of her Merchant dresses. I raise an eyebrow in surprise. It is a frock I have not seen her wear in a long time, burgundy in color with a patterned skirt. The bodice shows off ever-so-slightly too much cleavage, at least too much for my tastes.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," Mother replies simply. "I'm having dinner with the Baker tonight. I should be back late; make sure Primrose gets to bed on time."

I gape at her, and am about to say a jumble of things, ask a jumble of questions, but Mother glides out the door and into the night.

I am awoken later that night, in the bed Primrose and I still have to share, by the key turning in the lock downstairs. Mother must be home. Feeling a bit thirsty anyhow, I rise and steal across the hall to get a sip of water. On my way back, however, I pause at the entrance to the staircase, when I hear voices. Laughing. Inquisitive, I slip down the stairs and pause on a landing, where - turning my eyes around the corner and down, I can see into our living area. Mother and the Baker are talking and chuckling together. My brow furrows, flummoxed. When Mother told me she was seeing the Baker tonight, I had presumed she was going to begin helping him through his grief and introducing him to his new life as a widower. So why does it sound like they actually had a good time? Like they... went on a date? Mother has never seen anybody since my father passed, didn't seem interested in dating or other courtship.

"Steffan, you always were such a tease..." Mother chuckles. Her voice is light and airy in a way I haven't heard it in years.

"Only because I always knew I could make you laugh," Steffan banters. His voice grows serious, somber. "I've missed you all these years, Lillian. It is nice to talk and laugh with you again." In a gesture that is strangely intimate, he reaches out a paw of a hand and tucks a stray lock of blond hair behind Mother's ear. "I never got over you..."

Huh?

Mother's eyes are wide and luminous in the dim light. She opens her mouth to say something...

... But then her face is nearly swallowed by the Baker's large hands as, tilting her head back, he presses his mouth to hers. He kisses her!

I can see Mother's eyes go even wider, hear a little gasp, but the Baker deftly swoops one hand low about her slim waist and pulls her closer.

And then, the most amazing thing happens. Mother... closes her eyes. "Mmmhmmmmm..." she purrs deep in her throat. Twisting her lips into his, her hands reaching up to sink into his blond hair, she kisses him back. Encouraged, the hand at her waist dips lower, cupping the fleshy curve of her ass. Aroused, Mother boldly raises her leg high, and the Baker catches her thigh, hitching it around his waist.

Relieved that she has no intention of going anywhere, the Baker's remaining hand leaves Mother's head and boldly reaches out to grope her breast. She should push him away now for that, but instead, Mother spreads her legs and pulls the Baker in between her thighs with a deep, guttural groan. "Hmmmm... yes, more, please," she rasps, breaking the kiss and pushing her breasts up against the Baker's toned muscles. Then she takes the Baker's head and pushes his face into the valley of her breasts, where he begins to feast. Stumbling backward, the pair sink onto the living room couch, where Mother opens her knees. I avert my eyes quickly, but can still hear the clang of a belt buckle, can still hear the creak of the couch springs, can still hear Mother's groans and sighs and the Baker's grunts as they... have sex...

"Uhhh... Huhhhh... Muhhhhh... Mmmmm... Fuck! Steffan..."

"Urrrr... God, Lillian... I love you... so much..."

I can't believe it. The Baker kissed my mother! The Baker is making love to my mother! And Mother kissed him back, and is fucking him just as passionately. Thoroughly shaken, I pad as quickly as I can without being loud back to Primrose's and my bedroom and fling myself under the covers.